


The Flavor of Blair

by Natashasolten



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natashasolten/pseuds/Natashasolten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dialing down empathy was something Blair had never been trained to do, nor wanted to do.  It was Jim who had learned to close off, protect himself from the vulnerability of too much too fast be it taste, touch, horror, desire.  But for Blair it was always the same.  His emotions were out there naked and fierce, always bumping into things, bumping into Jim."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flavor of Blair

**The Flavor of Blair**

by Natasha Solten

 

 

In Washington everything shimmered elfin green, even the air.  Blair stood on the condo balcony breathing it in, fresh-leaf scent and afternoon mist.  The day had been bright but off to the horizon darkness seeped upon the slate blue sky promising a forecast of more rain.

 

He breathed in deep again, trying to clear his mind.  But Jim was in it everywhere and every way, making it muddy.  The tall peak of him, the high forehead, the blue sharp eyes, the broad shoulders and everything…everything was for Jim now.  With Jim. About Jim.

 

He couldn’t read.  He couldn’t sleep.  He couldn’t breathe.

 

It all started as a curiosity.  A job.  Maybe even a duty.  Jim was a Sentinel in need of a guide.  Blair could be that guide.  But with the responsibility of the label came the necessity to be a witness to Jim, to watch over him, in fact, to care for him.  Blair could never be the kind of guy to work that intimately with someone, assessing and aware at all times of Jim’s heightened five senses, without developing emotional attachment.  And it often became personal, sometimes too personal if Jim got lost in sorrow, rage, fear, love.

 

Dialing down empathy was something Blair had never been trained to do, nor wanted to do.  It was Jim who had learned to close off, protect himself from the vulnerability of too much too fast be it taste, touch, horror, desire.  But for Blair it was always the same.  His emotions were out there naked and fierce, always bumping into things, bumping into Jim.

 

At first he’d been afraid that Jim’s awareness might spike to dangerous levels by Blair’s inability to be stoic, unmoved.  For Blair the world was a thrill, every meal a mystery to be delved into, every movie something to be pondered, every human encounter a moment for him to connect.  Even the dust in book jackets excited him.  Hot-blooded, he always burned and he worried that Jim would always feel it and come to resent it as an intrusion.

 

In fact, Jim seemed to adapt quickly to Blair’s high energy and not be bothered at all.

 

He asked him once, suddenly uncharacteristically shy, “Can you tell my moods without even looking at me?”

 

Jim gave a half-shrug, nodded.  “My mind assigns you a distinct flavor.”

 

Feeling far too open, Blair said, “I’m afraid to ask what.”

 

Jim just winked at him and quipped, “Not vanilla.”

 

A laugh burst from his mouth but didn’t quell the tinge of worry.  He wanted to ask, but couldn’t say it: _Even when I’m horny?_

And, well, of course he knew Jim would be able to feel it, the delicate changes in temperature in his body, the increased pulse-rate, the dusky-sweet startle of arousal, perspiration, euphoria, the churning fires of the heart.

 

After he’d had that conversation with him, the idea that Jim could know him at all times in every way, including _that_ way, began to obsess him.

 

He decided he could not even masturbate without Jim knowing about it and sought out ways outside their home to accomplish that whenever he decided he needed it.

 

It was funny actually. This culture did not provide outlets for that sort of thing.  Legal ones, anyway.  If he used the car, went to a park and got caught he’d be arrested as a pervert.  He was cash-poor so renting a room, even for an hour, was out of the question and also frowned upon as sleazy, pervy.  The showers at the police station or the college gym were also out of the question.  Too public.  That would be worse than having Jim eavesdropping for sure!  It wasn’t like people didn’t do this sort of thing all the time.  And Blair wasn’t really ashamed.  It’s just that living with someone who would always know when, how long, how good even, made him squirm.

 

It might be months before he could afford a small place of his own. He could handle that.  But the problem surfaced without his will and at times when he least expected it if he didn’t give himself some regular comfort.

 

And then there was Jim.  Along with the fact that Jim could “sense” his every mood, was the fact that Jim was wonderful, actually, amazing and generous for even allowing Blair into his life both personally and professionally.  Blair felt grateful for that.  His affection for Jim tingled and tremored inside him.  He couldn’t help it.  Jim would feel _that_ , too, and then what?

 

And so he was muddy in his brain, in his body. Muddy about everything, unsure what to do except stand here right now and breathe in the rich green air and mull over the fact that Jim’s face superimposed itself over everything including the coming storm.  Add to that the small detail that he had been feeling sensitive and astir, flushed and feverish all day with nowhere to go to alleviate himself of accumulated tension, and he could only lean on the rail, close his eyes and try not to think of what flavor Jim had designated for him in that Sentinel brain of his.

 

He gulped the air as if it were sustenance, finding the oxygen he desired but not the essence.

 

Well, Saturdays recently were like that.  No work and no dates.  All day he’d been restless.

Inside the condo, Jim had put on some soft music, something Blair didn’t recognize but unobtrusive to his sensitive ears.  He was cooking something that steamed up the kitchen windows.  Blair didn’t care what it was.  When he was home, he ate everything Jim cooked.  With relish.  Even if he didn’t like it.  He was, after all, the guest.  He hadn’t been raised by wolves.  He had manners.

 

He heard a step behind him just then and turned. His hair tumbled over his shoulder and into his eyes as he tossed his head insistently on seeing Jim.

 

Jim, wearing that awful apron with the sunflowers leaned against the side frame of the balcony door, arms crossed over his chest, a hint of a smile on the contour of his lips.  “What’s wrong, Chief?”

 

Blair warmed inwardly every time he heard the nickname.  But he didn’t answer.  He glanced away from Jim’s real face only to have the image of Jim’s face follow in his thoughts.  “It’s going to rain again,” he said.

 

“I can smell it,” Jim replied. “And the tiny drumming even from here.  I can hear it.”

 

Blair’s brows rose at that. “It’s still far away.”

 

“Not as far as you think.”

 

If Jim could hear at that distance, what in the world could he sense from Blair himself only a few feet away?

 

“We could do something tonight,” Jim said softly, adding, “unless you have plans.”

 

“I have no plans,” Blair said, looking up.

 

Jim nodded watching him.  Then he just sighed.

 

“What?” Blair asked.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“No. I want to know.  You sensed something.”

 

Now Jim smiled.  He walked forward.  Reached out.  Picked up a handful of curls and moved them aside from Blair’s face.  “You had a little bit of hair blocking my view there.”

 

“W…what?”

 

He dropped his hand.  “I sensed something. Yeah.”  He let the answer stand for itself.

 

Blair realized he was trembling, cold and boiling at the same time, and Jim’s eyes seemed to be glimmering, and Blair said, “I’m just…” heart fluttering, “I don’t know, well, _frustrated._ ”

 

Jim said quietly, as if he hadn’t just brushed a lot of long hair from Blair’s too-hot face, “Okay, but you can’t move out.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“Good.”

 

“But I…”

 

“Shut up.  I’m gonna tell you something.”

 

Blair waited but the tremor in his chest simply would not cease.

 

“I figure the lack of privacy is part of the situation at hand,” he said.

 

Blair bit the inside of one cheek hard and tried not to roll his eyes.

 

“But…” he held up his hand, watching Blair to make sure he didn’t react until he was done, “it doesn’t bother me.  I mean really.  You being here feels as natural to me as my own breath.”

 

Blair started to turn away.

 

“Blair. I’m not done. I was going to say I like it.  I like it all the time.  You being here.  Everything about that.”

 

“Thank you, Jim.  Thank you for telling me that.”  Even to his own ears, his voice sounded dull.

 

“Not done here,” Jim said reproachfully.

 

Blair crossed his arms.

 

Jim put his hand on his arm. “You’re so tense.  Let’s fix this.”

 

Blair looked away.  “How far away is that rain now?”

 

Jim followed his gaze.  “Getting here fast.”

 

Now Blair faced him again. “So what do you want to do?”  He started to throw his arms back, get away from Jim’s touch, but Jim caught his hand and clasped it hard, then pulled him forward.  His other hand caught Blair’s chin and he leaned in and kissed him.

 

Blair felt those lips like a hot burn against his mouth, igniting his whole body.  Jim tasted a bit vegetable-ish as if he’d been sampling some of what he was cooking.  Stew probably.  Or soup. With pepper and sea salt and basil.

 

Blair pulled back a little but hung on to the heat of that warm body as if he never wanted to let go. “What…”  He couldn’t speak.  He couldn’t think.

 

“You think what you’re feeling only goes one way?” Jim asked.

 

Blair ducked his head.  Jim caught him in another kiss and Blair sank into it this time, and the kiss became the kind that disintegrated worlds until there was only you and the person you were loving.

 

The answer to Jim’s question was ‘yes’ because how could he know?  Jim was the Sentinel with extra-sensitive sight, smell, taste, touch, hearing.  Blair, the smart guy, had been the one in the dark all this time.

 

It didn’t take long for Jim to lead him to the loft bed and finish that kiss with deeper explorations.

 

He seemed to know instinctively what Blair needed and wanted.  Jim was exact and attentive. Blair figured here the extra-heightened senses helped, too.  If Jim really hit the spot, Blair’s heart would rush like a galloping wind.  Jim would never fail to feel it, hear it.

 

Blair leaned over Jim, cupping his jaw, staring into his smiling eyes, and said, “I want to know you inside.” He brushed his forehead.  “Like you know me.  I want to feel what you feel.”

 

“You are.”

 

His hand trailed down Jim’s chest, and Jim’s body shuddered slightly as Blair found open desire and wrapped around it.  Jim bucked up.

 

Blair wondered, _Does he dial down or up when he makes love?_   It was a rational question.  Either way, the intensity for Jim would be great.

 

He ran his hands up and down Jim’s muscular thighs, judging the response.  Jim’s cock moved beautifully against his flat stomach, arcing up.  Blair took it in his mouth.

 

Jim cried out.

 

Afterward, Blair climbed over him and looked down at him again.  Jim said, “Your hair is tickling my shoulders.”

 

“That’s what it does.”

 

Jim laughed and it was so relaxed it seemed to melt everything in the room until they were inside a blurry watercolor flurried by gentle passion, love.

 

“How long did you know?” Blair asked him.

 

Jim said, “What, that you were in love with me?”

 

Blair made a face. “If you define it that way.”

 

Very sure of himself, “I do define it that way.  I’m sensitive, remember?”

 

Blair waited for the answer.

 

Finally Jim gave it.  “Weeks maybe.”

 

Blair huffed, shaking his head.  His hair brushed against his shoulders soft and unruly.

 

Jim continued, “But definitely since that conversation we had.”

 

“Which one?”

 

“About your flavor.”

 

“You never told me.”

 

Jim reached up, pushing his fingers through Blair’s curls.  Pulling him down, kissing him. As Blair’s breath quickened, Jim turned, ran one hand down his naked hip, and whispered in his ear, “Pecan ice cream with caramel sauce, whipped cream and a cherry.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this story you may like some of my other natashasolten fan stories on this archive in various fandoms. Also, you can find two of my "The Vampire Diaries" novellas, "The Myth" and "Deep In the Virginia Woods" both under my non-fan name Wendy Rathbone on Kindle Worlds here:
> 
> http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HDP6CCA
> 
> I also write original m/m romance (The Foundling, None Can Hold the Dark, and others) available from Amazon under my name "Wendy Rathbone." My newest novel "Letters to an Android" will be available in 2014. I am also a poet and short story writer.


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